


our seasons in between

by themorninglark



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, High School - Second Year, Kageyama trying to be less of an awkward dork, Kenma trying to be less scared of Kageyama, M/M, Mostly gen but maybe slight potential romo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:50:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/themorninglark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kageyama rubs the back of his beck and tries not to do that <i>glaring</i> thing. He feels, suddenly and profoundly, that this was a mistake. Perhaps he should have led with something friendly, like, <i>hello</i>. Perhaps he should have followed Hinata's example and settled for texting.</p><p>But they're here, now, and patience has never been Kageyama's strong suit, not when it comes to some things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our seasons in between

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tothemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothemoon/gifts).



> happy hqhols ;) i wanted to write you some kageken, hope you enjoy!  
> with love, a treater

Kageyama doesn't recognise the figure standing at the vending machine. Not at first, anyway.

He is slight, dressed in the red Nekoma hoodie and trackpants, with shoulders that hunch just a little. It makes him look shorter than he actually is. That's something Kageyama has noticed before - that, and the way they seem to freeze, for a split second, at the soft shuffling sound that his footstep makes in the dirt behind the gym.

He draws closer. Catches sight of blond hair in the sun, sees the figure inch away, just slightly. The penny drops.

 _Oh._  

It's Nekoma's setter.

He must have slipped out of the gym when no one was looking. He's good at that.

He is alone. It occurs to Kageyama, faintly, in the back of his mind, that it is strange to see him alone. He's usually flanked by his teammates, on court or off; they don't let him out of their sight much. Neither does Hinata. Perhaps Hinata went to the bathroom. He does that a lot.

 _Kenma._ That's his name, and yeah, admittedly, Kageyama's bad with names, but he doesn't have to search too hard to find this one. At least, that's what Hinata is always calling him, and he'd heard it called out during summer camp last year. Does he have a last name? Surely he has a last name. Kageyama doesn't know it. _Nekoma's setter. The smart one. The quiet one._

As Kageyama draws closer to the vending machine, he sees Kenma's head turn just a fraction, catches a glimpse of sharp golden eyes.

Kageyama gives him a stiff nod by way of greeting.

Kenma makes a sound so soft in response that Kageyama can't tell if he's talking, or simply breathing. He looks down, and turns back. Kageyama's just taller enough to see over his shoulder as Kenma's fingers uncurl quickly, hover over one button, then another. 

He's got his other hand in the pocket of his trackpants, change jingling anxiously.

Kageyama, waiting in line, shifts his weight from one foot to another and watches. He wonders if maybe the vending machines here in Miyagi are different from Tokyo's. Maybe the drinks they offer aren't found in the city. Maybe Kenma is baffled by the variety.

He starts to clear his throat, fishing for something helpful that he can say, but at the sound he sees Kenma jump, sees those shoulders shrink in on themselves even further as Kenma's finger darts out and punches the first button it comes into contact with. _Orange juice._

Kenma pulls out a handful of coins, drops two into the machine, picks up his juice box and runs away without another look at Kageyama.

Kageyama watches as he goes, disappearing around the corner of the gym like a shadow streaked in scarlet; he leaves no dust clouds in his wake, he is nearly invisible, there one second and then the next, not, so subtle in his movements that perhaps a less practised eye might never have noticed him at all. But Kageyama's spent a long time watching from the other side of the net, and his muscle memory is mimetic.

 

* * *

 

 _You totally made him run away!_ Hinata had said, a year ago; _it's your fault, Kageyama!_

Kageyama had scowled, muttered, _I just wanted to ask him -_

Hinata, waving frantically, turned and shot him a knowing grin as Nekoma's bus pulled out of the carpark, making its way down the country road and out of sight.

_You're too, like, intense! Don't glare like that!_

_Like what?_

_Like that!_

 

* * *

 

So this time, Kageyama doesn't. Or at least, he tries his best. It's not like he has the slightest idea what kind of face he was pulling last year. Things were different, then. He was different. Maybe Kenma has changed too. It's hard to imagine that someone wouldn't, after that much voluntary interaction with an idiot like Hinata.

He doesn't come too close. Even from a distance, he knows Kenma has noticed his approach.

Kageyama's arms are full of volleyballs, and he doesn't have long to chat. He also has too many questions. But he feels Hinata's gaze burning a judgmental hole in his back, and he swallows his words, blinks to soften his stare.

"You played well," he says.

Kenma, water bottle frozen halfway to his mouth, turns. Their eyes meet for a moment, almost - no, _definitely_ \- by accident, and Kenma looks down at the floor so hastily that Kageyama thinks he must have hallucinated that split second.

"Thanks," Kenma mumbles. "You too."

Kageyama opens his mouth without thinking, blurts out the first thing on his mind. "How long have you - "

He catches himself, smothers the rest of his sentence in a cough that tries too hard to sound casual, and straightens, averting his gaze. He remembers Hinata's words, and thinks to himself: _don't push it._

From the other end of the court, he hears the tall half-Russian guy - Lev - call, _Kenma-san!_

Kenma looks up in his direction. He lets out a tiny, exasperated sigh, and his shoulders sag.

"Sorry for bothering you," Kageyama says with a brusque nod, and turns to head to the equipment room.

"Since I was five," Kenma replies, quietly, just loud enough for Kageyama to hear at his back as he leaves.

 

* * *

 

When training camp rolls around again this year, it's different and strangely familiar, all at once. Ubugawa hosts the first round, Fukurodani the second. That's new. Some faces are new, too, and others have returned. 

This time, Kageyama doesn't look at the first steel tower he sees and think,  _that's the Tokyo Tower_.

This time, it feels like an altogether quieter affair without Fukurodani's Bokuto and his banter with Nekoma's former captain, though Tanaka and Nishinoya more than make up for it when the mood takes them, and it often does.

 _This is our last summer,_ they tell the team, solemnly and dramatically, while Ennoshita sighs and folds his arms without further comment. He doesn't need to add anything. They all know it. And Kageyama knows as well that this will be the last summer for many others here, faces he's sized up and come to know on court. 

Kenma, who has been to Fukurodani before, says Hinata can walk with him to the nearest vending machine; and Kageyama, curious, finds himself trailing awkwardly after them for approximately two minutes before Hinata spots him and drags him out from round the corner to join them.

Kenma eyes him with something between caution and appraisal.

"You don't have to mind him, Kenma!" says Hinata, letting go of Kageyama's collar. "He's just a dumbass - "

"That's _my_ insult!" Kageyama snaps.

Kenma looks away and walks on, but not before Kageyama catches the slightest upward turn to his lips, almost like a smile.

 

* * *

 

The field outside the gym here isn't quite as sprawling as Shinzen's. Still, the managers whip out watermelons on a scorching hot day, and the teams spill out of the courts sweaty and grateful.

Kageyama picks up a bottle of Pocari Sweat from the cooler and finds an empty spot next to Hinata and Kenma, mid-conversation.

"I don't like summer," Kenma murmurs, nibbling at his slice.

That's how he always talks, Kageyama's realised. Voice trailing off into the wind, like he is never quite sure whether you want to hear what he has to say. He always looks a little surprised to find out that you do after all.

" _What?_ " Hinata yelps, leaning forward on his palms. Kageyama shifts uncomfortably, and tries to stretch his legs out. The grass is dry and ticklish round his ankles.

Kenma looks away. "Yeah..."

"But why? Summer is when we get to hang out and play each other! You're _so_ far away the rest of the time - "

Hinata illustrates his point expansively, throwing both arms out to his side like he's trying to wrap them round the entire circumference of the world.

"It's too hot," says Kenma.

Kageyama wholeheartedly agrees with this sentiment.

He starts to open his mouth to say so, but feels Kenma's gaze flick over to him, then, like he'd caught the sudden intake of breath that comes before words. Of course he would.

_How does he do that?_

It drives Kageyama up the wall. Well, many things drive Kageyama up the wall, in truth, but he _swears_ , Kenma's senses aren't human.

He glances over, trying to meet that gaze before it flees again. He doesn't succeed. Kenma is harder to catch than a sunbeam.

"Yeah," says Kageyama. "Summer is too hot. I like winter."

"I - "

Kenma starts to speak, haltingly; when he stops, it's like his own voice has taken him by surprise, and the rest of the sentence hangs suspended in limbo. The air between them is still, still and impossibly warm. 

Kageyama swats an insect off his arm. The sound makes Kenma start.

"I don't like winter either," he finishes.

"Huh," is all Kageyama has to say to that.

Hinata pulls a face at him. "Yeah, Kageyama, who likes _winter_? It's too cold!"

"It's too cold," Kenma echoes.

"Then - "

Kageyama pins Kenma with a curious, searching stare, is rewarded, just for a second, with a flash of those brilliant eyes meeting his own before they glance away again, at that spot by his sneakers somewhere in the dust.

"What season _do_ you like?" he asks.

"Autumn," says Kenma.

Framed like this in red and gold, he does look like something out of an autumn day.

 

* * *

 

"What do you think about when you're on the court?"

Kenma blinks, glances up slowly from the bench.

Kageyama rubs the back of his beck and tries not to do that _glaring_ thing. He feels, suddenly and profoundly, that this was a mistake. Perhaps he should have led with something friendly, like, _hello_. Perhaps he should have followed Hinata's example and settled for texting.

But they're here, now, and patience has never been Kageyama's strong suit, not when it comes to some things.

Kenma's silent. A second passes, then another; he doesn't tell Kageyama to go away, and neither does he get up and bolt himself, which must count as something of a victory.

Kageyama stands his ground, holds himself as distantly and respectfully as he can, in case the scary mohawk guy comes and tries to rip him a new one.

Kenma's gaze is calm and inscrutable. It drifts across Kageyama's confused expression, takes in the Ubugawa vs Shinzen game unfolding in front of them, and comes to rest somewhere near his feet.

When he speaks, he is quiet as always, but every word rings in Kageyama's ears like an echo.

"I don't really think of anything special," he says. "I'm not. Special. Like you."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Kageyama retorts. "Don't you always beat us?"

"It's not because of me. It's because of my team."

Kageyama shakes his head empathically. "Your game sense is amazing. You can read people well. Like when you fooled Tsukishima with the direction of your gaze the first time we played."

"Oh," Kenma ducks his head. "That was nothing. I can't do a lot of the things you do..."

"But I wouldn't think about doing _that_ ," says Kageyama. "How do you do that?"

Kenma gives him a small shrug in response.

"It's like a puzzle, I guess," he says, eventually.

"A puzzle," Kageyama repeats, feeling dumb.

"Every puzzle has an answer," says Kenma.

He stands up, dusts off his shorts and shoots a look beyond Kageyama's shoulder. Kageyama turns to see the rest of Nekoma, gathering at the sidelines.

"I need to go join my team," says Kenma softly.

Kageyama nods. "Yeah. Okay."

It's not until later that Kageyama registers the rest of Kenma's words, considers the meaning of _special_ and the weight it carries, when it's spoken by someone as careful as him.

 

* * *

 

_They're here, now -_

And Kageyama thinks, they won't be here much longer.

He still has the biggest puzzle of all to solve. But slowly, painstakingly, he's starting to unravel it.

 

* * *

 

"We'd better see you at _Harukou_  Nationals this year!" Hinata yells, because he can't say anything in less than a yell, not when he's this excited and the carpark's bubbling over with goodbyes, claps on shoulders and see-you-agains.

"Yeah," says Kenma. "You too."

"We'll _definitely_ make it! Shiratorizawa doesn't have an ace like Ushijima any more!"

Hinata punches one fist into his open palm with determination, grins at Kenma and Kageyama, in turn, before running off to say farewell to another player in a Nekoma jersey, their speedy middle blocker.

"Yeah," Kageyama echoes. He feels Kenma's gaze on him.

_Destined rivals, huh?_

Kageyama's never thought much about things like fate, or destiny, but if there's one thing Hinata's taught him (though he'd _never_ admit it), it's to trust his gut when it tells him, _this is right_.

And it'd be all wrong for this to be the last time they face each other on a court.

"Kageyama…"

His name is unfamiliar in Kenma's voice. It dawns on Kageyama that this might be the first time he's heard it.

Kenma pauses. Behind him, the sun is setting; it's different, here in the city, from the sunset in Miyagi. There are so many more buildings, wires overhead, street lights blinking into life. The sky is a different colour too. _Must be the dust._

The light spills crimson down Kenma's cheek.

"See you in spring," he says.

And Kageyama can't help it, blurts out, "Kenma - "

He sees Kenma start, blink, realises that he's gone and put his foot in his mouth again, calling him by his name like that out of the blue.

But Kenma's still there. Staring at him, with those pale gold eyes that shine in the fading afterglow.

Kageyama stumbles over his words.

"Aren't you retiring? It's your third year. I thought. You know."

_Smooth, Kageyama. Real smooth._

Kenma lips twitch.

"I guess I wanted to play with Shouyou one more time in a real competition. And." He pauses. "With you."

"Kageyama! We're leaving!"

That's Ennoshita. Kageyama looks over to the Karasuno bus, sees his captain standing outside with Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei, waving at him. He turns back to Kenma, who shuffles his feet, takes a step back with the most infinitesimal of movements and murmurs, "you'd better go"; he seems to fade into the sunset, effortlessly. A shadow, and yet -

One that's growing warmer, closer.

 _Spring._ It's no autumn, for sure, but it's not too hot and not too cold either, and maybe that's a good time, a right time, for them to meet again.

"Yeah," says Kageyama, with a nod. "See you in spring."

And for the first time, Kenma smiles at him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kenma's seasonal preferences are documented on [his character profile](http://haikyuucrows.tumblr.com/post/91017520401) :)


End file.
